


The Magic Touch

by RocknVaughn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Fingering, Background Het, Background Relationships, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Magic Revealed, Massage, Masturbation, Modern Era, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Sex Magic, Sex Magic Kink, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since having the role of CEO of Pendragon Industries suddenly thrust upon him, Arthur’s been very tightly wound—in more ways than one—worrying both friends and family. So when his sister Morgana tells him that getting a therapeutic massage from her boyfriend’s best friend might just be the thing to cure his ills, Arthur is more than a bit skeptical. </p><p>But when Merlin’s hands begin working their magic on him, Arthur has to admit that he’s never felt better. However, it soon becomes clear that not all is as it seems…and Arthur ends up getting <i>way</i> more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magic Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlin Holidays Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Merlin+Holidays+Community).



> Written for Merlin Holidays 2013.
> 
>  **Author’s Notes** : My original giftee had this amazing prompt as one of his/her wishes:
> 
>  _Merlin/Arthur. Meeting at a massage parlor with one of them as the masseur and the other getting a massage that turns sexual._
> 
> Combine that prompt with “sex magic” as one of his/her favorite kinks and “dubious consent” as one of mine, and it was off to the races! I am hoping you all will enjoy the result. 
> 
> Happy Holidays, Everyone!
> 
> * * * * *
> 
>  
> 
> My deepest thanks to [pensive_bodhisattva](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pensive_bodhisattva/pseuds/pensive_bodhisattva) for being a fantastic cheerleader and brainstormer, and for the early beta work. Thanks so much for being there for me, my lovely friend. 
> 
> My _"I'm not worthy"_ awe goes to [Nightfox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pensive_bodhisattva/pseuds/Nightfox) for her amazing in-depth beta. You made my story SO much better than it was before. You're awesome! (I'm never writing porn without you again, bb!)
> 
> I really couldn't have done it without you guys! Thank you so much! <3
> 
> * * * * *

Arthur Pendragon pushed himself away from his paper-strewn desk and kneaded at his aching neck with a weary hand. He looked up and peered blearily out his office window. Staring at the twinkling sprawl of nighttime London, he wondered idly if there would ever again come a day when he’d be able to leave work before the sun went down.

Although Arthur had been groomed to take over Pendragon Industries for as long as he could remember, he’d never expected to become the de facto CEO of an international, multi-million pound company at age twenty-six. To Arthur, his father had always seemed too iron-willed and stubborn to yield to something so commonplace as a stroke, but obviously he’d been wrong. Arthur had only found out after the fact that their family physician had been warning Uther about his health for months before his collapse in the middle of a board meeting six months ago.

Since that day, Arthur had been busy learning the ins and outs of his father’s job. He often worked into the wee hours of the morning in order to also keep up with his own work as the head of International Relations. It had been a blessing when he’d finally filled that post last month. It was obviously to his credit that there had been nary a blip in the stock exchange over the passing of the proverbial torch from father to son. 

That certainly wasn’t to say that Arthur hadn’t weathered his share of storms since taking over the top spot. It seemed that his workload as CEO was an ever-increasing one. He knew he was fast reaching his breaking point, but he couldn’t afford to back down now. The board was still filled with too many of his father’s lackeys for him to feel comfortable delegating to them. They were not, as a majority, completely sold on the direction that Arthur wanted to take them. 

Arthur and his father had not always seen eye-to-eye about how to run the business, and now some of the older board members were proving to be very resistant to change. Odin and Agravaine in particular seemed hell-bent on undermining some of the more innovative ideas Arthur had proposed. It was indeed a blessing that the others had, so far, seen their scheming for what it was and outvoted them. Still, Arthur wondered how much longer he could maintain the equilibrium while truly bringing about the changes that needed to be made. 

Which explained why he was still in his office at— Arthur paused to check the time on his watch—ten forty-eight pm on a Thursday. 

With a sigh, Arthur stood and shrugged into his long-since-discarded suit jacket. “Really…” he said aloud to himself, “I ought to just put a cot in here and be done with it…”

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage7sized_zps15cce64a.jpg.html)

All too soon, Arthur’s alarm clock dragged him kicking and screaming to consciousness. He didn’t know if it was lack of sleep or just his mind playing tricks on him, but he felt as if one moment he’d been toeing on his loafers in the entryway of his flat, and the next, he was in the elevator heading up to his office.

As Arthur rounded the corner to the executive suites, he saw his amazingly efficient assistant waiting for him, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a bacon buttie slathered with mustard and ketchup in the other. 

Tucking his briefcase under his arm, he grasped the offerings and pecked a kiss onto her cheek as he walked by. “Dear God, Gwen. You’re a lifesaver,” he said gratefully. “What would I ever do without you?”

She followed him into his office as she replied with a blush and a smile, “Starve, probably.”

As always, the haphazard state Arthur had left his desk in the night before had been straightened and organized as if the mess had never existed. “And be buried under a Leaning Tower of Pisa of paperwork, no doubt,” she teased. 

“Probably,” Arthur agreed good-naturedly. Being a natural leader, Arthur was actually well suited to the job of CEO. However, it was no secret that the mountain of tedious paperwork that came with the title was his least favourite aspect of his new position. 

Gwen waited until Arthur had gotten himself situated behind his desk before she pulled out her tablet and started to go over his itinerary. “Okay, so the Godwin meeting is still at ten, and you were going to check in with the Marketing department head at noon, but your three o’clock has been rescheduled until Monday.”

Arthur took a sip of his tea, leaned back in his chair, and sighed in bliss as the strong flavour washed over his tongue. Then a moment later, his brain caught up to what Gwen had said. “Wait, why was my three o’clock rescheduled?”

As if on cue, his sister Morgana sauntered in to the room. “Because, dear brother, I’ve arranged a _different_ kind of meeting for you this afternoon,” she informed him with a smirk. She gave Gwen a conspiratorial wink before perching on the edge of Arthur’s desk as if it were her God-given right to be there.

Arthur looked back and forth between the two women and then rubbed at his forehead wearily. “I take back what I said,” he pouted at Gwen. “You are entirely too loyal to Morgana for my taste. Perhaps you’d rather be her assistant?”

Unrepentant, Gwen's eyes twinkled and her grin only widened. “I know you don’t really mean that, Arthur, so I’m going to let that slide.”

Arthur turned a gimlet eye toward his sister and frowned, “And what brings you out of your R&D cave this early in the morning?” 

“I’m staging an intervention,” Morgana announced.

“A what?”

“An intervention,” she repeated, leaning forward to brush a speck of dust off the shoulder of Arthur’s suit jacket. A spark of familiar energy passed between them like static, sending a shiver up Arthur’s spine. “You have spent entirely too much time inside the confines of these four walls. You’re much too young to stay cooped up in this stuffy old office all the time. Really, Arthur…when did you last go out to the pub for a pint, let alone went out on a date or got laid?”

 _Way too long,_ Arthur reluctantly admitted to himself, although he resented Morgana mentioning it because, “That’s really none of your business.”

“That long, huh?” she responded, one irreverent eyebrow raised in question. 

“Morgana…” Arthur warned, his gaze flickering momentarily toward Gwen and back. It was bad enough discussing such things with his sister, but it was excruciatingly embarrassing in front of his assistant.

Luckily, Morgana took the hint. Turning to Gwen, she said, “Thank you, Gwen. I’ll take it from here.”

Gwen nodded and then met Arthur’s eyes, her face full of compassion and understanding. She squared her shoulders and said, “It’s for your own good, you know,” before turning and leaving the room, tactfully closing the door behind her.

“It’s really not fair that she listens to you more than she does me,” Arthur complained with a sigh. 

“Oh, she does not,” Morgana chided. “But she’s worried about how hard you’ve been working lately; the long hours you’ve been putting in, burning the candle at both ends, running yourself ragged. As am I.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur protested as he rolled his shoulders back in a surreptitious attempt to loosen the muscles there. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Morgana said unconvincingly when Arthur failed to suppress a grimace at the painful tightness that his motion did nothing to dissipate. 

“Well, someone has to run this damn company,” Arthur snapped irritably, “and if you think I was going to leave it in the hands of the likes of Agravaine or Odin, you can think again.”

Morgana leaned forward and trailed a soothing hand down her brother’s arm. “I know. I know how much this means to you. But it’s not worth the price of your health, mental _or_ physical. Look what it did to Father.”

“No, but Father was a stubborn workaholic who just didn’t know when to quit. He wouldn’t listen when people tried to tell him it was too much for him to handle alone and continued to take on everything himself,” Arthur countered.

Morgana crossed her arms across her chest and looked at Arthur expectantly. “Let me know when you get to the part where you’re not just like him.”

Arthur opened his mouth to fire back a scorching retort, only to realize that Morgana was right. His face paled and he slumped back in his chair in defeat.

“Right,” Morgana said with a brisk nod. “Now that we’ve got that straightened out, we need to do something about it.”

Even though Arthur felt he’d probably regret it, he asked, “So, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“A massage.”

“A…massage,” Arthur repeated, deadpan. “That’s your fantastic plan?”

Morgana rolled her eyes at the disbelief and sarcasm contained in Arthur’s tone. “Well, God knows you need to loosen up, Arthur. And it’s not just a massage,” she insisted, “it’s the _best_ massage you can find in London.”

She opened her purse and extracted a business card before clicking the clasp shut again. She thrust it out toward Arthur in silent command.

Arthur took the card from her and held it gingerly by the edges. **Magic Hands Massage** it read, with today’s date, three o’clock, and the name ‘Merlin’ written beneath that in a neat scrawl. Arthur scoffed. “Really?!? You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” 

He tried to hand the card back to Morgana, but she just crossed both arms across her chest again and eyed him with obvious displeasure. “He comes highly recommended,” she sniffed, tilting her chin up defiantly.

“By whom? The guy uses a stage name, for Christ’s sake. How good can he be?”

“I’ll have you know that Merlin is his real name,” Morgana huffed. “And he was recommended by Gwaine, if you must know. Merlin’s a friend of his.”

Arthur snickered. “Oh well, now _that_ surely inspires me with confidence. I mean, I get that you seem to have a penchant for bad boys…to each their own, and all that. But you do realize that flaunting your new ‘flavour of the month’ in front of me is going to have considerably less impact than it did with Father? Because, honestly, I don’t care what or _who_ you’re doing in your spare time.” 

Rather than offending and annoying Morgana the way Arthur had hoped, she seemed highly amused by his outburst. Chuckling, she replied, “First of all, while Gwaine may be a little rough around the edges, he definitely is not a ‘bad boy’, as you so eloquently phrased it. Second, he’s not my ‘flavour of the month’; we’ve been dating almost five months now. And third, you’re changing the subject. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

That was the moment that Arthur knew he was going to lose this argument, but it didn’t stop him from trying. “No self-respecting Englishman names their child ‘Merlin’, Morgana.”

“Apparently they do,” she responded. “Besides, I think Gwaine said his heritage is Welsh?”

“That would explain a lot,” Arthur said dryly.

“You sound like an entitled, stuck-up prat, you know that? There’s nothing wrong with being Welsh, just like there’s nothing wrong with being named Merlin. You’re just putting up a fuss because you don’t like the fact that I’m ‘handling’ you.”

“Damn right, I don’t,” Arthur agreed.

“If you were taking better care of yourself, I wouldn’t have to ‘handle’ you,” Morgana pointed out. “Look at how tense and stiff you are. You need to relax before you explode, and this is a perfect way to do that.”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped in response to her words, so naturally, Morgana pressed her advantage. “I’ve met Merlin; he’s absolutely lovely. You’ll like him. And he’s really good at what he does, Arthur. Gwaine said that everyone tells Merlin he has magic hands; that’s how he came up with the name of his shop. He’s so busy that he’s usually booked up for months in advance, but he fit you in as a favor.”

“I don’t know…” he hedged.

“Please, Arthur,” Morgana asked, not wheedling now. Her voice was quiet and compelling. “I really think it’s important that you do this.”

“Why?” Arthur pressed her.

Morgana lifted her eyes and met her brother’s gaze solemnly. “I don’t know why but…I _saw_ it, Arthur.”

Both of Arthur’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Ever since she was a young girl, Morgana had always had the ability to know about certain things before they would happen. There had been many nights when they were kids that Arthur had held her shaking, sobbing form as she recovered from one nightmare or another. That was before they knew; before they understood what was happening, that Morgana was just a little bit… _magic_. It was a secret they’d instinctively kept between the two of them. They both knew that their very pragmatic and concrete-minded father would neither understand nor approve.

Arthur had never really understood how she was able to do this. She’d never really explained it, but Morgana’s ‘hunches’ had been proved right far too many times for him to ignore her now.

He gave in at last. “All right, I’ll do it. For you, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Morgana nodded once, and for a split second, she looked relieved. Then it was gone, replaced by her normal mischievous twinkle. “Now, please try not to come off like a pompous arse to Gwaine’s friend, all right?”

“I’m never pompous!” declared Arthur, insulted. 

Maintaining eye contact with her stubborn brother, Morgana raised her voice and called out, “Gwen?”

A moment later, the door opened. “Yes?” Gwen asked from the doorway. 

“Would you please be so kind as to tell Arthur what you told me after the first time you met him?”

Gwen gave Arthur a sheepish look as color stained her cheeks. “Um…” she hedged.

“No, it’s all right, Gwen. You can tell him.”

She sighed and met Arthur’s eyes apologetically. “I said that I didn’t think I’d ever met a more arrogant, pompous arse in all my life,” she admitted. She put both hands out in front of her as if to soothe Arthur and said hurriedly, “But I was wrong, Arthur. You’re perfectly lovely once people get to know you. It’s just…when you’re nervous, you can come off kind of…wrong.”

Morgana raised an ‘I told you so’ eyebrow at Arthur. He sighed deeply and nodded, “Thank you, Gwen. That will be all.”

Gwen ducked back out the doorway but left the door open this time.

Drawing her attention back to Arthur, Morgana continued, “Now, as I was saying, be nice to Merlin. After all, the company’s already paid for the next six sessions; I’d hate to have you tossed out on your ear after the first one.”

“Six!? Look, I agreed to one. _One_ , Morgana, and that’s all.”

Morgana stood, meticulously straightened her black pencil skirt, and then sauntered toward the door. 

She casually flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned back toward him. “Trust me, Arthur—one time, and you’ll be hooked.”

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage17sized_zps3483f0fc.jpg.html)

Merlin Emrys walked out of Massage Room 2, drying his lightly oiled hands on a crisp white towel before tossing it in a clothes bin behind the counter of the reception desk.

He resisted the urge to rub his palms against his trousers. They always tingled a little at the end of a session…lingering traces of the magic—the _real_ magic—that he used to make his treatments even more effective. Merlin closed his eyes for a second, mumbled under his breath quietly, and he sighed when he felt the magic recede back into his core. 

He kept his magic a secret, of course. No one besides his mother, his Uncle Gaius, and his childhood friend Gwaine knew about his more _unique_ abilities, and he wanted to keep it that way. While magic wasn’t exactly illegal, it _was_ rather uncommon, and apparently, his was stronger than most. Therefore, it was even more important that his talents remained hidden. In general, most people without magic didn’t even believe such a thing existed, and those that knew otherwise certainly didn’t talk about it. 

It had never been his intention to use his “gift” to enhance his work; it had just sort of…happened. He’d been on internship during his last semester at university when it had happened the first time. Members of his class were practicing by giving massages to the terminally ill. As the poor man he’d been assigned to told him how he’d gone into the doctor with a sore shoulder and come out with a diagnosis of stage four bone cancer, Merlin began to shiver. Not at the (admittedly, a bit shocking) story, but at the disease he could feel just under his palms. It was as if it was trying to push through the man’s skin like a school of ravenous piranhas just to get at him. 

Startled and more than a little bit afraid of how virulent the disease felt, Merlin had put up a shield against it. He let it sit like a cushion between his hands and the man’s skin while he worked. 

The man’s response was immediate. His client let out a deep, soft sigh and murmured, “Oh Lord, that feels wonderful.”

Wondering what had made the difference, Merlin closed his eyes and used his mind’s eye to try and determine what had changed. What he saw amazed him. As his hands moved, the magic that shielded him was left behind in traces that sank into his client’s skin like rain into the parched ground. 

Merlin knew his magic could never cure this man, but, if he could make the comfort he was providing linger, then he would do it, and gladly. As he worked, Merlin meditated on how he wanted the man to feel less pain, to be more comfortable, and for the relief to last for a while. His magic had responded to his will, flowing green and gold into his client until his aura fairly pulsed with it.

When he’d finished, and he’d gingerly helped the man up to a sitting position, Merlin saw that his patient was crying. Concerned, Merlin lightly grasped each of the man’s forearms. “I’m so sorry…did I hurt you?”

“No…” the man choked out as he rubbed a hand across his eyes to dash the wetness away, “not at all.” Then, he smiled and patted Merlin on the shoulder. “It’s just that…I haven’t felt this good in months. It was like magic how the pain just melted away.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he held his breath. _Did I just give myself away?_

He breathed out a sigh of relief when the man continued, oblivious to the physiology student’s sudden tension, “You truly have a gift there, Son. Thank you for using it on me.” 

Later, after Merlin had graduated, he’d gone to work at one of the spas he’d interned at, and quickly earned himself a following, along with the frighteningly accurate moniker “Magic Hands”. Therefore, it seemed only fitting when he opened his own business two years later that he use it as the name of his shop. 

Now, almost three years down the line, Merlin was doing quite well for himself. His own schedule was usually booked weeks, sometimes months, in advance. In fact, the demand was such that he’d had to hire two other masseuses and an administrative assistant to keep up with all the clientele.

The latter looked up at Merlin with a smile. “How did it go?” Freya asked him pleasantly.

“Oh, fine,” Merlin murmured before raising his voice in a teasing scold so that the client leaving his massage room could hear, “But Trevor’s shoulder would be even better if he’d stop running into the wall at racketball all the time…” 

Trevor gave Merlin a sheepish grin and shrugged. Freya looked up at the man kindly. “Same time next week, Mr. Gordon?”

“Yes, please,” he said, handing his credit card to her across the desk. 

“Freya, I’m going to go clean up the room and prepare for the next client. Who is it?” Merlin asked over his shoulder as he started to walk away.

“An Arthur Pendragon?” her voice ended in a surprised question. “He’s new?” Merlin had so many recurring customers that he rarely had time to fit in new patients.

Merlin’s brows scrunched together, trying to place the name… _Pendragon…Pendragon…Oh!_

“Yeah,” he reassured her. “You remember me telling you about Gwaine’s girlfriend Morgana?”

Freya nodded as she waved goodbye to Mr. Gordon.

“Arthur is her brother. She said he was in a bad way and all but begged me to see him.” He shrugged one shoulder sheepishly.

Freya pursed her lips to hold back a smile and shook her head at him. “You are too nice for your own good, Merlin Emrys.”

“Well, Morgana’s a dear and she’s really been good for Gwaine. Plus, she gives puppy dog eyes like nobody’s business.”

Freya did laugh at that and waved her hand at Merlin to shoo him along. “Oh, you. Now go on before you end up being late.”

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage19sized_zps7c154fe6.jpg.html)

Arthur had to admit that he was a bit surprised when Leon pulled the car up in front of the address that Morgana had given him. After all, he’d expected a place called “Magic Hands Massage” to look a little more…campy. But no, while the sign was done up rather whimsically in gold, green, and purple, the business itself seemed perfectly normal.

Looking up to meet Leon’s eyes in the rear view mirror, Arthur said, “Well, Morgana said this would take about two hours. Did you want to come back or will you wait?”

“No, I’ll wait, Arthur. That’s fine.”

Nodding, Arthur exited the car and surreptitiously rubbed his damp palms on his trousers. He couldn’t exactly explain why was able to walk into hostile board meetings with nary a quaver, yet standing here in front of this establishment made him nervous. Perhaps it had something to do with the idea that he would willingly be giving some sort of control over himself to this Emrys fellow, and that just didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was a bit of a control freak. 

All right, _entirely_ a control freak.

Feeling wildly out of his element, Arthur pushed open the door to the shop. A soothing chime over the door tinkled as he entered. At the sound, a slight woman with long dark hair and soulful eyes smiled welcomingly from behind the desk. “May I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

Uptight and uncomfortable, Arthur instinctively fell back on his business persona to help him through it. “Arthur Pendragon to see Merlin Emrys.” His voice came out in short, clipped tones that made the receptionist’s eyebrows jump in surprise.

“Right…” she said uncertainly, her lips pursed into a frown. “You can have a seat over there, Mr. Pendragon. Mr. Emrys will be with you shortly.”

As Arthur crossed the room and stiffly perched on the edge of one of the waiting room chairs, Freya thought, _Well, Merlin’s going to have his hands full with that one…_

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage10sized_zpsb434c20d.jpg.html)

Moments later, Merlin emerged from his treatment room, shooting a glance at the clock on the wall and sighing in relief. While it was understood by his regular customers that appointment times with Merlin tended to be more of a suggestion rather than a rule (because if one of his clients _needed_ more time to be properly sorted out, he made sure they got it), he had really wanted to make sure he was on time for Morgana’s brother. From what she’d told him, he was a stickler for routines and schedules and Merlin didn’t want to make a poor first impression.

He sidled up behind Freya and bent down to speak in her ear. “The three o’clock here yet?”

Freya nodded her head in Arthur’s direction and said flatly, “Yeah, that’s him over there.”

Puzzled by his friend’s uncharacteristically harsh tone of voice, Merlin looked in the direction she’d indicated…and promptly forgot to breathe.

When Morgana had told Merlin that she’d had a brother, he’d naturally assumed he’d be just a more masculine version of her. It was quite obvious that he’d been wrong.

The man he saw prowling back and forth across his waiting room could not have been more different from Morgana. Where Morgana was pale skinned and raven haired, her brother was golden in both aspects. Where his sister was small and willowy, Arthur was tall and broad. He looked as proud and regal as lion, his gait stiff but purposeful. His muscles rippled subtly underneath an expensive suit that was tailored to fit him like a glove.

The man before him was just about the most attractive Merlin had ever seen, ticking off just about every box on Merlin's fantasy-partner list. In fact, all he needed was a pair of blue eyes and he'd be Merlin's ideal type in every way.

Merlin took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. This was neither the time nor place to get distracted by his libido. Arthur was a client who, according to his sister, was in serious need of his _professional_ help. Squaring his shoulders, Merlin crossed the waiting room and placed himself in the blond man’s path. “May I help you?”

As he turned to face Merlin, Arthur said, “I’m waiting for Merlin Emrys,” in a posh, cultured accent that had Merlin’s toes curling up in his trainers.

“I’m Merlin,” he said with a smile, thrusting a hand out for Morgana’s brother to shake. 

Arthur’s blue eyes— _very, very blue eyes, damn him_ —snapped to Merlin’s face before giving his body a quick perusal from head to toe. Despite himself, Merlin felt his cock twitch with interest inside his pants.

“Not bloody likely,” Arthur sniffed at last, staring at Merlin’s proffered hand as if it were something slimy.

“Excuse me?” Merlin responded, nonplussed, dropping his hand abruptly.

“My sister told me that this _Emrys_ was the best in the business—”

“Oh—” Merlin said with a soft smile and a blush.

“—and that it was impossible to even get appointments with him—”

“Not exactly _impossible_ ,” Merlin demurred. 

“— _therefore_ …” Arthur glared at Merlin for having the audacity to interrupt, “you cannot possibly be him.”

Insulted by Arthur’s sneering dismissal, Merlin bristled. “And why not?” he demanded indignantly.

“Anyone with that kind of following would have to have been in the business for a while, not some fresh-out-of-college, wet-behind-the-ears little boy like you. I don’t know what this Emrys fellow is playing at, sloughing me off onto one of his interns, but…”

Arthur’s tirade was interrupted when Freya pushed between the two men, fearlessly wagging a finger right in his face. “Just who do you think you are, speaking to Mr. Emrys like that? He fit you into his already very busy schedule as a favor and _this_ is how you treat him? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Arthur’s eyes widened almost comically as he stared, first at Merlin's diminutive defender, then at Merlin himself, then back at Freya again. Finally, he closed his eyes for a long moment and then met Merlin’s eyes over Freya’s head. “You…really are Merlin Emrys?”

Merlin crossed both arms in front of himself defensively. “Yes.”

Merlin could suddenly see the nervous, socially-awkward man behind the brusque mask. It was clear that he was carrying _far_ too much responsibility, just as Morgana had said. For a moment, Merlin's heart went out to Arthur for having to shoulder such a heavy burden on his own. However, his sympathy was cut short as Arthur's display of vulnerability barely lasted for a second.

“You should have said something,” Arthur blustered pompously.

Freya’s back stiffened and Merlin thought it the better part of valour to usher her back to the desk before she tried to claw Arthur’s eyes out.

“I did,” Merlin insisted. He closed the distance between them, his chin jutted upward defiantly. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

“Well then, you should have tried harder,” Arthur insisted. 

Merlin’s mouth gaped in shock. _What an utter pillock!_

“Are you always this colossal a prat?” Merlin demanded.

Arthur opened his mouth as if to argue, but, as if he'd suddenly thought better of it, his jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He turned his head away and Merlin could _swear_ he heard him whisper something that sounded a lot like, _“Shit. Morgana’s gonna kill me…”_

It was as if all the fight drained out of him. When Arthur lifted his eyes to meet Merlin's again, they were full of chagrin and contrition. “Apparently so,” he admitted sheepishly. “At least when first meeting people.”

Merlin wasn’t sure if it was the hesitation in those deep blue eyes or the tiny dimple tucked into Arthur’s cheek that did him in, but either way, he decided to give Arthur another chance. “Well then, let’s hope the second meeting goes smoother.” He put his hand out again. “Hello, I’m Merlin.”

Arthur smiled gratefully and slid his hand into Merlin’s. “Arthur. Pleased to meet you.”

Merlin gasped at the sudden rush of magic through his hand, thrumming and pulsing as if it somehow recognized Arthur’s touch and wanted more.

Apparently, he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought because Arthur’s brows drew together in concern and he asked, “Are you all right?”

Merlin extracted his hand from Arthur’s and rubbed it surreptitiously against his trouser leg. “Um, yeah…” he breathed, his voice not altogether steady. “I’m fine.” He took another step back reflexively, but turned that into an ushering motion. “Right this way. Room Two, if you please.”

[](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage18sized_zps9a707ec5.jpg.html)

_Well, I very nearly cocked that all up_ , Arthur thought to himself with a sigh as he walked down the hallway toward a door marked with the sign 'Massage Room 2'. Morgana would never have let him hear the end of it if he had. In fact, she still might not, if Merlin decided to complain about him to Gwaine and it got back to her.

Honestly, Arthur didn’t think his reaction would have been as bad if Morgana had warned him in advance that Merlin was so _fucking_ attractive. He was tall and slim and willowy and just goddamned _beautiful_ in ways that should not be allowed. His dark hair had the kind of natural waves that gave it a perpetual “just had sex” look. His full raspberry-coloured lips were so tempting that Arthur was finding it hard not to stare at them. And he had gorgeous blue eyes that fucking _twinkled_ when he smiled!

Even the man’s ears, which stuck out from the sides of his head at frankly ridiculous angles, seemed attractive on him. And just the thought of those elegant fingers touching Arthur's bare skin…

Arthur groaned as he felt all his blood rush south. Luckily, his companion mistook the sound’s meaning completely. 

“I know,” Merlin commiserated, patting Arthur on the back gingerly. “You’re loaded with stress right here between your shoulder blades. But don’t worry, Arthur, I’ll have you right as rain before you know it.”

Humming noncommittally, Arthur asked, “So…how does this work exactly?”

“Oh! Sorry,” Merlin immediately apologized as he opened the door for Arthur, “I didn’t realize. Um, well, first you disrobe, then you get up on the table, stomach down. There will be a sheet you can use if you'd feel more comfortable with a bit of cover, but I'm fine with or without it. It's entirely your choice.” With that, Merlin motioned toward a side door. “I’ll be in there preparing the oils and such. Do you have any preference?”

“Huh?” Arthur felt like a deer in the headlights. His eyes skittered upward from where they had been fixated on Merlin’s mouth.

“Oil,” Merlin repeated with a patient smile. “Do you have a preference?”

“Oh! Uh, no…” Arthur trailed off as his mind imagined Merlin’s wide palms and long fingers slick with warm oil, touching _intimate_ places on him…

_Dear God…_

“All right then,” Merlin smiled, his eyes twinkling again. “I’ll leave you to get ready. Just let me know when you’re all set.”

Once Merlin had left the room, Arthur breathed a huge sigh of relief and shuffled away from the edge of the massage table where he’d been trying to hide his rather obvious reaction to his last line of thought. 

Chagrined, Arthur started unbuckling his belt, hoping against hope that the slightly chilled air in the room would help. _Jesus, I’m not going to survive this without embarrassing myself, am I?_

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage5sized_zps3a29fa0b.jpg.html)

Merlin tried very hard not to think about the fact that the Greek God next door was currently getting naked for him.

 _Dammit, he’s not getting naked for_ you _, he’s come to get a massage, Merlin. Get a grip already!_

Lord knew that someone who looked like Arthur Pendragon was probably straight and had a fashion model for a girlfriend or something. But even if he were gay, Merlin knew that someone like Arthur would never look twice at someone like _him_ —a beanpole of a man with huge ears—when he could have the pick of any fit guy he wanted.

Sighing, he reached out a hand to grab the lavender oil…when the bottle of sandalwood-musk zoomed into his hand as if pulled by a string. 

“What the…” Merlin spluttered as he looked blankly at the bottle in his hand. He couldn’t remember the last time his magic had worked spontaneously like that, and he wasn’t sure he liked the implication at this particular time.

His palm tingled and warmed against the side of the bottle. “Now look,” he said aloud as if his magic were another presence in the room, “I am rubbing the tension out of my client's muscles to help him _relax_. I am not seducing the man.” He set the bottle down definitively and picked up the lavender oil to pour a little in with the chamomile he’d already put into the warming bowl. 

Merlin looked at his right hand as if it were the enemy. “And no more trouble out of you, do you hear me?” he threatened, realizing as he was doing so that it was sort of ridiculous to have an argument with one’s own magic.

He didn’t think that the red hot pulsing he felt against his skin in response was a good sign.

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage15sized_zpsac42d604.jpg.html)

By the time Arthur had gotten undressed, he was pleased to discover that his rather mortifying hard-on had completely dissipated. He didn’t need to deal with that on top of his discomfort at surrendering control of his body to someone else. Luckily, Merlin seemed (as Morgana had predicted) really nice and it made the idea at least a little more palatable. Of course, the thought of his shoulders not killing him all the time helped a bit, too.

Arthur looked at the sheet folded neatly at the end of the table. He didn’t really have any issues with modesty, so he set it aside and climbed up on the table, making sure to rearrange himself as to hide any other problems…should they arise. Once he was settled, he called out, “Merlin? I’m ready.”

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage14sized_zps463e875f.jpg.html)

Merlin was too preoccupied with carrying the small bowl of warm oil to notice anything else, but once he set the bowl down and looked over at the table, he nearly swallowed his tongue.

Arthur was one long, luscious plain of smooth golden skin and taut, firm muscle. And he’d chosen not to use the modesty sheet ( _damn him_ ), which left his frankly delectable arse prominently on display.

Swallowing hard, Merlin sidled closer to the table, if only to put himself out of Arthur’s line of sight. He didn’t want Arthur to think him unprofessional, but there was just no way Merlin was going to be able to hide his reaction to the sight of Arthur’s gorgeous body.

Leaning over him, Merlin murmured, “All right Arthur, I’m going to start with your neck and shoulders, since those seem to be your major problem areas. Then I’m going to work my way down your body and back up again. Hopefully, by the time I’m done, you’ll feel like a new man.”

“I hope so,” Arthur murmured as he leaned his forehead against the cushion surrounding the cut out in the massage table for his face.

“Don’t worry, you will,” Merlin reassured Arthur. He dimmed the lights and turned on the soft, instrumental music he used for his anti-tension massages.

Merlin dipped his fingers into the warm bowl of oil and then rubbed his hands together. While he did that, he closed his eyes and concentrated, thinking the words “calm” and “loose” and “relaxed” over and over again until he felt the magic hum to life between his palms.

“Let me know if I’m either using too much or not enough pressure for you,” Merlin said as his hands hovered over Arthur’s shoulders.

Since he’d never had a professional massage before, Arthur had no idea how he would know what the “right” amount of pressure should be. “Okay,” he said simply, thinking that it might be best if he left it up to Merlin to decide, since he was the expert.

Keeping his eyes closed and letting the magic guide him, Merlin placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. With his mind’s eye, he saw a tidal wave of red and gold burst from his fingers, leaving him breathless as the magic sank eagerly into Arthur’s skin. His fingers twitched restlessly, and so Merlin began to move them back and forth along Arthur’s shoulders. Instinctively, he knew just where to press in hard and where to gently smooth, and Arthur's long moan of approval served as confirmation of his assessment. 

After several minutes of kneading and focusing his thoughts on those guide words, Merlin felt the tension in Arthur’s shoulders finally start to ease. 

“How’re you doing, Arthur?” Merlin murmured into his ear as he rubbed at Arthur’s neck.

“…God, that’s so good…” Arthur sounded almost as if he were half-asleep. 

“Excellent,” Merlin said with a smile, pleased that his magic was helping Arthur the way he’d hoped. “I’m going to move on now, but we’ll come back to your shoulders later, all right?”

“Mmmhmmmm…” Arthur breathed out on a sigh.

Heat flared up under Merlin’s palms again at the sound of Arthur’s moan and, just for a moment, he imagined Arthur making that sound for an entirely different reason. 

_Oh, God…_ Merlin thought at his wayward libido, _not now, not now…_ and then forcibly cleared his mind so he could concentrate on his work.

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage4sized_zpsad3fba17.jpg.html)

While Arthur didn’t doubt that Merlin knew what he was doing, he had wondered whether a massage would truly make any difference to his perpetually aching shoulders. They had been tight for what seemed like, months, _years_ even.

Ten minutes under Merlin's hands made him a believer. Arthur wasn’t sure how Merlin did it, but it was as if the tingling heat from those supple fingers of his had just melted into Arthur’s skin like butter on toast. In fact, combination of the dimmed lights, the soothing aroma of the oil, and Merlin’s voice whispering the words _“Calm, loose, relaxed”_ in his ear over and over like a mantra had lulled him into an almost meditative state. 

Vaguely, he heard Merlin ask if he was doing all right, and it took him a minute to recall how to answer. He wasn’t even sure what his answer was, to be honest, although he was sure it must have been something to the affirmative, since Merlin’s wonderful fingers never stopped moving for a moment.

Merlin's touch seemed almost to fizz against Arthur's skin like champagne bubbles as he worked down Arthur's back, dancing across his shoulder blades and tracing over his ribs and the knobs of his spine with sure, practiced pressure. All the while, that glorious, almost viscous heat soaked deep into Arthur's loosening muscles. 

Arthur’s body felt less like muscle, bone, and sinew and more like clay—soft, warm and malleable. He was all Merlin's to mould; pliable and ready to take whatever form those magic hands might want to make of him. He was completely under Merlin's control…and he _loved_ it. 

Arthur was distantly aware of Merlin's palms skimming lightly over his buttocks before resuming their kneading on the muscles of his left thigh. The tingling warmth that suffused his upper body seeped slowly through his groin as if the sensation was attracted to Merlin’s hands. Soon, the whole area pulsed and throbbed in time with Arthur’s heartbeat and he couldn’t stop the moan of pure pleasure that tumbled from his mouth.

Suddenly, the circular motion against the back of his thigh stopped. “Arthur?” Merlin’s voice permeated the haze surrounding Arthur’s consciousness, but his ability to form coherent words had long since passed. All he could do was sigh blissfully and think at him, “ _Please don’t stop…_ ”

Arthur thought he heard Merlin hiss just the tiniest of whimpers in response and it made him want to moan himself. Then, almost as if he'd heard Arthur's thoughts, Merlin's hands began to move again. Yet it felt as though there had been some kind of shift in the quality of Merlin's touch as he resumed the massage. It could have been his imagination, but to Arthur, it was as if Merlin's touch had transformed, feeling less like a therapeutic massage and more like a lover's caress. Merlin’s fingers skated along the inside of Arthur’s calf, traced the shape of his ankle, ghosted along the soft fleshy instep of his foot. 

And then, as if it both reverberated in surround sound and yet came from nowhere, Arthur heard Merlin’s voice echoing inside his head, _“God, Arthur…you are so goddamned beautiful…”_ He didn’t hear the words so much as feel them, like ripples in a pond from where a pebble broke the surface. Merlin’s voice was rich and dark like chocolate, molten with heat and lust and Arthur was swept away in its wake.

 _“So golden and gorgeous,”_ Merlin’s voice continued as his thumbs kneaded the soles of Arthur’s feet and stroked down each individual toe. 

_“What I would give to touch you like a lover, to lick you all over…”_ And at those words, Arthur could almost feel the rasp of a tongue along his inner thigh, trailing higher and higher, even as Merlin’s gifted hands pressed against each individual pressure point on his feet. Arthur knew it must have been his mind playing tricks on him, but the intimate caress felt _so_ damn good that he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The hands trailed higher, kneading the back of his right calf until the muscles there were suffused with pulsing heat. Yet the phantom tongue pushed higher as well, grazing the seam between leg and hip again and again. It was exquisitely inflaming, the bone-melting arousal within him spiraling ever higher.

Warm fingertips drew patterns along the back of Arthur’s thigh, straying from time to time to stroke the soft, inner skin before tentatively inching higher. Two warm palms cupped his buttocks, the splayed fingers sparking more of that blessed heat into him. 

_“God, your arse!”_ Merlin’s voice shivered along his spine, filled his senses. _“There should be monuments erected to your perfect, round, sexy arse…”_ And just as the fingers began to knead, Arthur also felt a ghostly touch nudging against the underside of his balls that sucked all the breath out of him in a whoosh. 

Again, the movement of Merlin’s hands stopped, although what felt like a mouth gently sucking at his balls did not. Arthur’s slackened legs fell open and he canted his hips in open invitation, chasing that heavenly feeling, not wanting it to subside. He honestly thought he might die if it stopped…

There was a sharp intake of breath above him, and then, _“Christ, Arthur… You have no idea what you’re doing to me…”_ and the fingers resumed their teasing caress against his backside, warming his skin and sending more of that throbbing pleasure into his bones. And then the voice said, heavy with promise, _“What I’d like to do to this arse, you have no idea…”_ just as Merlin’s thumbs rubbed along the seam between his buttocks.

_“If this was mine to touch, Arthur, I would worship it and make you love it…trace my fingers and tongue around and around your rim until you went mad just from that.”_

And then he felt the first wave of warmth touch his rim and the shocking bliss of it sparked throughout his whole body. Arthur knew he _had_ to be imagining the seductive, filthy words just as much as the intimate touches, as he certainly could still feel all of Merlin’s fingers against his arse. Merlin’s thumbs had barely even nudged Arthur’s buttocks apart; certainly it wasn’t even _possible_ for Merlin’s tongue to be touching him there…but then he felt its unmistakable soft rasp again. 

It was as if Merlin’s words themselves were touching him, somehow making the sensations happen…which was exactly why Arthur knew this experience must be some kind of lust-fueled fever dream. 

Somewhere in his psyche, Arthur realized that normally he would have been acutely embarrassed about having such a vivid sexual fantasy while his massage therapist gave him a rubdown…but then that ghostly touch traced around his hole again and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Merlin’s phantom tongue circled that intimate ring of muscle over and over while the luscious heat that infused every cell kept Arthur pliant and loose. _“And after I’d finished that,”_ Merlin’s dream voice growled, harsh and guttural with suppressed desire, _“I’d finger you so slowly that I'd have you _aching_ with want.”_

 _God, yes!_ Arthur couldn’t contain the tiny, pleading whimper that whispered past his lips, and, as if in response, he felt the echo of that exact movement: the slick slide of a single digit breaching him. It moved in and out of him, the glide perfectly smooth as the throbbing, pulsing desire washing over him doubled in intensity with each inward stroke. 

Arthur felt suspended in heady sensation, swathed in incandescent heat and swept along by the blinding pleasure...not that it had even crossed his mind to fight it.

As disconcerting and worrisome as it should have been for him to surrender control of his body so completely, Arthur also felt safe, warm, and cherished…like nothing would happen that he himself wouldn’t want. And, foolish as it might have been, Arthur trusted his instincts; he trusted Merlin.

 _“And then,”_ Merlin’s voice brimmed with lust and want, _“I would add another finger to open you up…”_ Again, the action followed the words as Arthur suddenly felt fuller than before. But even the stretch was painless, yielding only more intense pleasure as those long, thin phantom fingers slid in and out of him leisurely.

Arthur couldn’t ever remember anyone ever taking this amount of time or care with him. He’d rarely gotten a chance to bottom (and those few times he had, the experience hadn’t really impressed him), but he was now starting to see its appeal. Arthur had never known it could be this good.

He could still tell—in a disconnected sort of way—that Merlin’s real hands were still massaging his hips and buttocks with strong, sweeping, impersonal strokes, yet all of Arthur’s attention and focus were with that tingling, honeyed pleasure between his thighs and inside his hole. 

Arthur had not thought it possible to be so turned on and yet so relaxed, but he had to admit (with what little cognitive power he had left) that it was so. In fact, his sensitivity seemed heightened because of it; every nerve ending was alight and every cell screamed for release.

As the sensual caresses continued, time seemed to lose all sense or meaning. Arthur no longer had any idea if the teasing pleasure had begun minutes or hours ago, and frankly he didn't care so long as it _never fucking stopped_. 

Just when Arthur thought things couldn't get any hotter, Merlin's throaty voice reverberated inside his head, _"And then, when I had you all pliant and loose, I would crook my fingers just so..."_ and the movement changed angle inside of Arthur and grazed against a pleasure center he’d heard tell of but never actually found on his own. Light sparkled in front of Arthur's eyes like fireworks and the air was punched out of his lungs in response. 

_Oh God…yes, please yes!_

_"...and stroke your sweet spot until you came just from that."_ As what Arthur imagined to be Merlin’s glorious fingers rubbed a tingling, dizzying rhythm against his prostate, the coil of his impending orgasm wound tighter and tighter. The feeling grew and grew until it had blotted out all sight, sound, and smell…everything but the almost unbearable lust rippling through him.

Arthur had the strange sensation of riding the crest of a wave for the longest time…and then he fell, tumbling blindly into the most intense release of his entire life, free falling through the blissful ecstasy that seemed to last forever. However, in a strange paradox, Arthur’s body was still so relaxed and loose that he could do little more than gasp and tremble uncontrollably while he spurted come into the sheet underneath him with every delicious shiver.

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage20sized_zpsb506982e.jpg.html)

With a soft sigh, Arthur let his body weight close the front door to his flat as he leaned against it. Regardless of how embarrassing it was to have had such a _potent_ reaction to Merlin’s treatment, Arthur couldn’t argue with the result: he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relaxed and content.

It didn’t take much to imagine Merlin’s face in his mind: that touchable-looking hair, his expressive blue eyes, and his sexy, erotic lips that Arthur would kill to slide his dick between…

As Arthur’s hand inched toward his already half-chubbed cock, he thought, _God, it really wouldn’t take much for me to have another go…_ He imagined himself spread-eagled on his bed thrusting into his lubed hand while pretending it was Merlin’s mouth, and suddenly couldn’t think of a better way to spend his evening (short of having Merlin’s _actual_ mouth on his dick, of course). 

With that thought in mind, he toed off his shoes and padded through the living room without even bothering to turn on a light. He was halfway down the hallway to his bedroom when a very familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Soooo…how’d it go?” Morgana drawled from the semi-darkness behind him. 

“Christ, Morgana…” Arthur panted, putting a hand over his pounding heart as he turned around to face her. “Warn a guy, would you?”

Morgana clicked on the lamp next to where she was perched on the armrest of Arthur’s pristine white couch. “Now, where’s the fun in that?” she asked with a knowing smirk.

“You realize this could be considered breaking and entering,” Arthur said as he turned around and walked back to the living room, leaning his weight against the wall with one shoulder. 

“Not when you have a key…” she replied, holding said object up for his perusal. “Besides, you’re avoiding the question…again.”

“It went fine,” Arthur said noncommittally, but they way his eyes shifted away from his sister's gaze gave away the real story. 

“In other words, you made a total arse of yourself,” Morgana translated sagely. 

Arthur sagged against the wall in defeat. 

Morgana laughed gleefully. “Oh, I should have put money on it; I really should have.”

“Thanks for making fun of my apparently woeful interpersonal skills,” Arthur huffed sourly.

At that, Morgana walked over to her brother and grasped both his hands to pull him away from the wall and wrapped him into a hug. “Oh, pooh,” she mock-scolded as she held him tightly, “you know that I love you. It’s just that teasing you is such fun!”

“Thanks?” Arthur sighed against her shoulder as he registered Morgana’s familiar sparkly tingle in all the places her body touched his. “And stop trying to use your blasted magic to win me over,” he continued, giving Morgana a tiny shrug to put space between them. “You know that’s cheating…”

Morgana had the good grace to look abashed. “It wasn’t on purpose,” she said. Arthur gave her the raised eyebrow of ‘I call bullshit’ before she amended, “This time.”

“I swear it, Arthur!” she vowed when he continued to give her a disbelieving look. “Besides,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “this conversation is supposed to be about _you_.” She grinned as the wary light returned to Arthur’s eyes. “I’ll bet Merlin didn’t put up with any of your shit, huh?”

Arthur’s lips quirked as he recalled Merlin standing toe-to-toe with him, giving as good as he got. “No, he didn’t,” he admitted, his smile turning fond in remembrance.

“Yeah,” Morgana agreed. “He’s not exactly a shrinking violet. How was it after you stopped insulting him?”

“How do you know I insulted him?” Arthur spluttered, wondering if Merlin had already given his friend Gwaine a full report of their initial encounter. 

“Because you’re you,” Morgana answered with a shrug.

Arthur hesitated, but decided not to even bother arguing with Morgana about it, especially since it was true. “It went fine.”

Morgana’s eyes gave Arthur the once-over. “You look like it went better than fine. You’re not walking hunched over like an old man like you were this morning. I’d call that bloody fantastic!”

“Yeah,” Arthur admitted, rolling his shoulders around in a circle and sighing blissfully when the usual nagging ache did not materialize. “It really kind of was.”

Morgana clapped her hands together happily. “You see? I _knew_ it was a good idea!”

“Oh and by the way…thanks for telling me that Merlin was bloody fucking gorgeous!” Arthur complained sulkily. “A little warning would have been nice. Maybe then I wouldn’t have made such an complete and total tit of myself in front of him.”

“Doubtful…” she teased. “And hey, a little eye candy never hurt anything…” she said slyly.

 _Except the ability to control my libido_ , Arthur thought in reply. 

Morgana’s eyes danced even in the dim lighting of the room. “Why? Did you like him?”

Arthur speared her with a droll look. “You bloody well know I did. It’s obvious that you’ve figured out what my type is. The real question is, am I _his_ type?”

Morgana’s lips pursed as if she were trying not to laugh. “Well, he likes men if that’s what you mean.”

“It’s not, actually.”

This time Morgana did laugh, although not unkindly. “Well, I showed your picture to Gwaine, and he assured me you were.”

 _Hmmm, good to know,_ Arthur thought. 

“Is he seeing anyone?” Arthur asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

His sister’s knowing smirk and raised eyebrows indicated he hadn’t fooled her one bit. “As a matter of fact, he isn’t. Are you planning to do something about that?”

Arthur shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know him very well.” _But I’d like to_ get _to know him very well…in-depth and personally, in fact..._

“Going out on dates is _how_ you get to know people, Arthur.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you. Now, if you’ve finished playing matchmaker, I was planning on having a—” _wank_ , he thought, “—shower. I want to wash off all this oil.”

Morgana harrumphed. “Fine. Be a party pooper.” She picked up her purse and coat, gave him a peck on the cheek, and headed for the door. 

“And lock the door behind you when you leave!” Arthur called out after her retreating form.

“Yes, Mum…” she called back just before he heard the front door latch shut. 

“I swear,” Arthur muttered aloud, shaking his head, “that woman was a ninja in a past life.”

[ ](http://s971.photobucket.com/user/anon6869/media/massage2sized_zpscefc95bb.jpg.html)

Despite what he’d told Morgana, Arthur decided against showering. He found that the aroma the oil left behind was soothing to his nerves (not to mention that it reminded him more than a little of Merlin, which, he conceded, could definitely be helpful for later).

Instead, he’d changed into pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt and made some dinner. Arthur put his feet up on the glass coffee table and flipped through the sports channels on his big screen TV as he ate. 

Arthur knew that he probably had hours of work to make up for due to his early escape that afternoon, but for once, he decided it could all wait until tomorrow. Pendragon Industries certainly wouldn’t crumble down around his ears if he neglected non-emergency tasks for one day. So, after drowsing on the couch for a while to the soundtrack of a cricket match, he took his dishes to the sink, clicking off the telly and tossing the remote onto the matching loveseat as he passed by it. He put some soft jazz on the stereo and turned the volume down low before padding into the bedroom to turn down the bed and freshening up in the loo.

Then, he’d climbed under the covers, perched his reading glasses on the end of his nose and plucked a long-forgotten book from the ‘to read’ pile on his bedside table. 

It really was amazing just how much more calm and focused he felt when he wasn’t tense and sore all the time. He had no doubt that, when he did finally drag himself into the office tomorrow, he’d be much more productive because of it. _Maybe there really is something to this whole massage business,_ he mused. 

When Arthur’s eyelids finally started to feel heavy, he tucked a bookmark in between the pages of his book and set it and his glasses aside. After all, he still had some unfinished business to take care of, and he didn’t want to be too tired to fully enjoy it.

He pushed the bedcovers aside and stood long enough to get his kit off. Then Arthur padded over to the thermostat to adjust it slightly, just enough so he would be comfortable in the room naked. He snagged a hand towel from the bathroom and then sat on the edge of his bed while he rummaged for something very specific in his bedside table drawer. 

Sticking with the theme of the day, Arthur decided to forego his normal gel lubricant and opted to crack open a new bottle of a thinner, more oil-like slick instead. He planted his feet wide apart and and poured a small amount of the liquid into his palm and then set the bottle aside. Arthur closed his eyes as he rubbed his hands together, letting his body heat warm the oil as he remembered the feel of Merlin’s slicked hands trailing up his inner thighs.

 _Merlin…_ Arthur hummed appreciatively as he imagined the gorgeous therapist kneeling between his thighs, looking up at him with eyes blown wide with lust. He would dig his fingers into that tousled ebony hair as Merlin nuzzled the side of his face against Arthur’s already burgeoning prick. _“God, Arthur…”_ Merlin’s rich, passion-drugged voice would be full of sexy promise, _“…want to suck your cock so bad…”_

Arthur slid his left hand down between his legs and traced his oily fingers along the outside of his balls, teasing the sensitive skin for a moment before fully cupping them in his palm. A hiss of excitement whistled through Arthur’s teeth as he trailed the slippery fingers of his right hand down the underside of his prick, imagining it to be Merlin’s tongue.

 _Fuck,_ Arthur groaned aloud. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever been as aroused by a fantasy as he had been that afternoon: with the lights down low and the soft music and Merlin’s gentle hands touching him all over. The tingling heat those fingers invoked in him…well, it was no wonder people thought him magical. Or at least, the people who didn’t know such a thing truly existed.

Arthur continued a teasing trail along the side of his cock, tracing a finger under the rim of the head of it, caressing his balls as he tried to recreate the buzzing, tingling heat that had flooded his body with passion earlier. But instead of imagining Merlin’s cheeks hollowed out around his hard length (which was definitely what he was aiming for), a flash of Morgana’s face popped up before his eyes. 

He grimaced and shook his head to dislodge the image of his sister (which was really inappropriate timing if he did say so himself) and tried again. Arthur focused his mind on the honeyed, sparkling sensation…and again, Morgana came to mind. 

However, this time it wasn’t her face he saw, but rather a memory from a few hours ago when she had folded him into her embrace and hugged him. The sensation of her magic touching him was so familiar by now that he barely noticed it most of the time, but now…

Arthur’s eyes snapped open and he gasped, “Fucking hell!” 

_Merlin had magic._

Having experienced Merlin's talent for himself, it was certainly not a wonder to him that people thought Merlin was so gifted at his work. He was undeniably that; the remarkable difference in Arthur’s shoulders testified to that fact. But it was also now blatantly obvious that Merlin could not have earned a more apt nickname. 

As if giving the sensation a name had made it real, Arthur could now detect the undercurrent of Merlin’s sparkling magic. It lingered in his system like a stove turned down to simmer, and despite himself, Arthur felt his arousal ratchet up a notch. 

_What?_ Arthur mentally argued with his traitorous body, _You should be upset about this, not aroused by it, dammit!_

But aroused he was, because there was no denying that this discovery changed everything Arthur had thought about what happened in Merlin’s treatment room that afternoon. Where Arthur had assumed that he had imagined Merlin’s part in the intoxicating encounter, it now seemed clear that Merlin really had been beguiling him…or at least his _magic_ had been.

And no matter how unprofessional or inappropriate it had been for Merlin to take advantage of him in that way, there was something just scorchingly hot about the thought of being seduced into orgasm with magic. 

Arthur’s cock twitched and hardened at the thought, throbbing and begging for attention urgently. “Fuck!” he swore, frustrated with himself for suddenly being so damn turned on that he couldn’t see straight. 

Giving in to the spiraling need, Arthur flopped backward onto the bed, wrapping his slick hand around his cock and giving it a tug. He hissed in satisfaction, sliding his hand up and over the head and back down again. 

Out of nowhere, the magical tingling roared back to life, flooding his veins with dizzying molten heat that made him feel faint and lightheaded from its potency. “Oh, God…” Arthur moaned, his heart racing in his chest. He almost _feared_ the lust raging inside him, and yet he found himself utterly within its grasp, enthralled and incapable of resisting its allure. 

Arthur’s hand slipped and slid along his rock hard cock, the warm oil soon covering his whole length. He closed his eyes, imagining plunging his prick between Merlin’s plump lips while Merlin hollowed out his cheeks around him…but it just wasn’t enough to make him come, no matter how amazing the mental image was. His body wanted—no, _needed_ —that incredible, mind blowing sensation of fingers up his arse pressing against his prostate.

Too aroused to even consider being embarrassed, Arthur pulled his knees up to his chest and slid his other hand down, past his taint to trail his fingers against his tight hole. Without even breaking rhythm with his right hand, Arthur relaxed his muscle and slipped one oiled finger inside himself, first to just the knuckle, then all the way in. He’d tried this in the past, but the sensation had done very little for him, until now. Right now, he was so hypersensitive and aware of that damn finger that Arthur could barely breathe. He prayed to God he could find his prostate on his own as easily as Merlin’s magic had seemed to. 

Again, consciously thinking about the magic seemed to spur it into motion; it ghosted a touch along Arthur’s inner wall, as if showing him the way. When the anticipation got to be too much, Arthur crooked his finger forward and pushed. This time, he found the spot unerringly.

A guttural groan tumbled from Arthur’s lust-slack lips as the sensation he’d been craving washed over him and he actually saw sparkles in front of his eyes for a moment. 

Arthur’s hand fairly flew over his cock in response as his finger kept time inside of him. Unlike that afternoon, Arthur climbed to the precipice incredibly quickly…and then tumbled over screaming Merlin’s name as ropes of pearly come coated his stomach and thighs.

Completely spent, Arthur heaved in great gulps of air that burned his throat, raw as it was from his fervent cries of pleasure. He felt uncoordinated, his limbs gone limp and watery with the intensity of his release. 

Once Arthur remembered how to actually control his appendages, he felt about blindly until he located the hand towel he’d had the foresight to prepare. He mopped at the mess, his arm still clumsy in the aftermath of his mind-blowing orgasm.

Dropping the cloth over the side of the bed, he rolled over onto his side and dragged the covers up to his waist with a dreamy sigh. He idly wondered how long the magic would remain in his system before shaking his head as if to clear such treasonous thoughts. He’d had magic used on him without his consent…shouldn’t he be focused on that?

Arthur rolled onto his back and tucked his hands behind his head, staring at the bedroom ceiling. Now that his mind was starting to clear, he honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about Merlin and what had happened between them. 

It was undeniably gratifying to know that a man he found very attractive had obviously felt the same way about him. It was also evident that, as a lover, Merlin would be very sensuous and giving. And, unlike just about every other man he’d met in at least the last couple years, Merlin was down to earth, comfortable in his own skin, and utterly unimpressed with Arthur’s wealth and status. All of those things were decidedly in Merlin’s favor.

But it didn’t sit well with him to think that Merlin could possibly be using his magic to take advantage of his clients. But then again, if that was truly the way Merlin did things, then Arthur didn’t imagine he’d have stayed in business very long, let alone have the client base he had. Besides, Arthur’s gut reaction to Merlin’s character was that he could be trusted; and Arthur had a bit of a gift when it came to reading people. 

Also Morgana had met him, liked him; even recommended him. Surely she wouldn’t have done so if Merlin were someone who used his magic for shady ends. After all, her “gift” had foreseen their meeting. Surely she would have known if something untoward was going to happen? If Merlin couldn’t be trusted? Morgana was particularly good with warnings, yet she had mentioned nothing to him.

Arthur rubbed a weary hand across his furrowed brow. All this going about in circles was eating away at the calm Merlin had so capably instilled in him, and giving him a bit of a headache to boot. He wished there were some way to know whether the seduction had always been Merlin’s intention, or if there was some other explanation for what had happened between them.

As if in response to Arthur’s unasked question, a moment replayed on the back of his eyelids: Arthur was standing at the counter scheduling his next visit with the receptionist when a door was wrenched open down the hallway. He’d glanced up to see Merlin’s head peer around the corner, his hair disheveled as if he’d been tugging on it and his eyes as round as saucers. 

At the time, Arthur had been too blissed out to really decipher what Merlin’s expression meant. He’d just smiled and waved, telling Merlin he’d see him next week. But now he focused his mind’s eye on what Merlin’s face was telling him: something had obviously unnerved and perhaps even frightened the man, and it had something to do with Arthur. 

And now that he had riddled out the secret of Merlin’s magic, he had a good idea of what it was. 

Merlin’s expression was not that of a man who had premeditated using his magic for nefarious purposes. In fact, he looked much more like a startled stoat than a scheming sorcerer. Merlin’s expressive face had been an interesting combination of confusion, embarrassment, horror, fear, and awe.

Arthur wondered what could have been going through Merlin’s mind in order for him to be feeling all those things at once. The emotions tumbled around and around in his brain until suddenly they slotted into place and he had his answer: What Merlin had done to Arthur had been unintentional…an _accident_.

No matter how far-fetched that idea seemed, Arthur's gut feeling told him he was right. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t puzzled it out before that moment. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time that he had experienced magic had gone rogue. In the early days, Morgana’s magic had done all kinds of crazy things that he’d ended up taking the blame for in order to keep her magic secret: It had shattered vases, moved objects, and on one memorable occasion, set his bedroom drapes on fire. 

Much to Arthur’s relief, once she’d understood about her gift and no longer let fear overcome her all the time, the incidents had subsided. But there were still times when she’d have to fight to make it behave. Morgana’s magic had a tendency to flare up when she was feeling emotional. That morning, for example, when she’d brushed the lint from his collar, the jolt of her energy had made him shiver because she had been nervous. And this evening, her magic had been trying to soothe him because she’d felt guilty for hurting his feelings. 

Judging by what had happened that afternoon, it seemed as if Merlin's magic was far more powerful than his sister's. So wouldn’t that also mean that when _his_ magic misbehaved, it would tend to do so in a bigger way?

Arthur considered the implications. Merlin’s magic had teased, aroused, and pleased him sexually so, by the same logic he applied with Morgana, wouldn’t that mean that Merlin was attracted to him…that he _wanted_ Arthur?

Arthur’s eyes widened in realization. He hadn’t been acting out his own sexual fantasies on that massage table (as he’d originally thought). He’d been starring in Merlin’s erotic daydream all along! 

So while Merlin’s hands had been giving Arthur the thorough and proper therapeutic massage his client had paid for, Merlin’s mind had obviously strayed toward more…sensual thoughts. Arthur didn’t blame Merlin for that one bit, since he’d had more than a few carnal yearnings about Merlin while lying on that table, too. The difference was that Merlin’s magic had decided to _act out_ those desires on Arthur while it seemed Merlin’s brain had been on autopilot. 

And God, _God_ , those filthy-hot words spoken in that sexy-as-fuck voice. Merlin must have been _thinking_ those things, and somehow Arthur had heard them.

It made Arthur wonder whether Merlin had heard _his_ thoughts in return, had heard him begging for Merlin’s touch, wanting Merlin to make him come…

Arthur could only imagine how hot and bothered Merlin must have felt, thinking all those lewd things while Arthur lay naked beneath his hands. He’d been way too muddle-headed from his afterglow to notice anything amiss, but now Arthur wondered whether Merlin would have had to take himself in hand once he left the room...

Closing his eyes, Arthur imagined Merlin with his scrubs and pants rucked down, leaning heavily against the door that adjoined the massage room, thrusting lightning-fast into his well-oiled fist, hot and hard and _desperate_ to come. 

“Christ!” Arthur cursed. If the thought of Merlin wanking whilst thinking of him wasn’t a huge fucking turn-on, he didn’t know what was.

With a strangled moan, Arthur’s back arched up from the bed as Merlin’s magic reignited his lust. It set his every nerve ending on fire and left him panting and breathless, his cock twitching for yet another go. 

Experimentally palming his hardening cock, Arthur wondered again how long the more interesting side effects of Merlin’s magic would linger. He couldn’t deny that he hoped it would be a while before they subsided. He hadn’t experienced orgasms this mind-blowing in, well, _ever_.

 _Sex magic…_ Arthur thought as he gave himself another slick stroke. _Who knew it could be so damn good?_

Arthur’s breath caught in his chest when he realized that, no matter how long the magic lasted, he’d still be seeing Merlin next Friday. Arthur’s pulse sped up in anticipation of their next meeting. 

Arthur couldn’t wait to have a bit of a heart to heart about the magic and set the gorgeous masseuse’s mind at ease. And better still, he couldn’t wait to let Merlin know that his interest in Arthur—carnal or otherwise—was _very_ much reciprocated.

Hell, maybe he shouldn’t even wait a week. No doubt Merlin was more than a little unnerved about what his magic had done and perhaps even nervous about facing Arthur again. Best to put Merlin out of his misery as soon as possible. Arthur made a mental note to ask Morgana for Merlin’s number in the morning.

As Arthur gave his cock another tentative tug, the answering wave of magic-induced heat pushed any further thoughts of practical matters from his mind. Right now he had more pressing matters at hand…and he intended to enjoy every second while it lasted.


End file.
